


You are poison running through my veins

by endeni



Category: Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blanket Permission, Cover Art, Digital Art, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Picspam, Podfic Welcome, Prophecy, Prophetic Dreams, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-23 06:50:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3758551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endeni/pseuds/endeni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even the littlest thing can shape the fate of the universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You are poison running through my veins

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this story for a fan_flashworks challenge. Things got out of control and I couldn't manage to finish in time but here it is, with added cover art/picspam. And just in time before AOU comes out and steals my brain.

This is the song of how the gods fall. The story of Balder the Brave and Loki, God of Mischief.  
  
But first it is the story of Frigga, All-Mother of Asgard and Queen of the Aesir.  
  
  
  
Frigga has a rare gift.  
During the day she spins and weaves at her loom and at night she sees the very threads of time part before her eyes. And as the past and present fell out of focus, she sees what is to come.  
But her gift is a curse too, because even if she knows about the future she does not dare to speak of it: for prophecies and foretelling are tickle things and the wise do not intervene, no matter how deeply they might wish to.  
  
Until, one night, she changes her mind.  
  
The war with Jotunheim ended the year before and all is quiet in Asgard once again. Frigga just kissed goodnight Thor and put young Loki to sleep in his crib. She lays on her bed now, her very pregnant belly making it difficult for her to find a comfortable position to sleep in. But sleep she does. And dream.  
Like watching something through your eyes when you are crying, she sees golden locks, the same shade as Thor's. A beautiful man, lying on a funeral barge. And she _knows_ it's the son that's still in her womb, a man grown. Dead.  
She hears people crying, lamenting his name. Balder, they said, Balder is dead…  
And then Ragnarök comes, the end of all things.  
She wakes up screaming.  
“Frigga,” the All-Father says, raised from his sleep too. “What is it? Is it the baby, are you in pain?” He gathers her in her arms, looking at her with a worried frown.  
“A nightmare,” Frigga answers. “Just-” A sharp intake of breath, meant to stop her tears. “I shall go to the kitchens, fetch a cup of sleeping infusion.” She kisses him on the cheek and rises up from their bed. “Please, go back to sleep, Husband.”  
A nightmare, Frigga thought, walking through the hallways. And what a nightmare it was.  
She saw Ragnarök rise and destroy everything in its path.  
This time, she cannot stay idle and let destiny take its own course. No fate can be worse than the one she saw in her dream.  
  
How to save her soon-to-be-born son from his fate? How to stop the raising of Ragnarök? Frigga spends the rest of the night awake, lost in dire thought, a cup of herbal tea cooling at her hand.  
By the following dawn a tentative plan is born. She will name every single _thing_ that could kill her son. Then she will make each and every one of them swear an oath never to harm him. An incredibly difficult, time-consuming spell, but not an impossible one.  
And so, day after day, the spell is cast...  
The first day she takes an oath from the fire, that swears never to burn Balder. That night, Frigga wakes up screaming.  
The day after she takes an oath from the rivers and lakes, swearing never to drawn Balder, and again that night Frigga has the same dream.  
And again she collects the oaths of the animals, of the mountains and on and on and still every night the All-Mother has the same dream.  
“This is futile,” Frigga tells herself one night. She cannot do this by herself, she realizes, she needs help.  
  
All the while, she thinks about talking to Odin, who is growing more and more worried about her nightmares and her insomnia. But something always stops her. _Trust your instincts_ , her mother used to say.  
She decides instead to sought the council of the Norn Witches: Urd, who can see the past, Verdande, who can see the present and most of all Skuld, who can see the future.  
So it is that the following day the Queen travels in secret to their lair in the roots of Yggdrasill, the World Tree.  
“What of my unborn son?” Frigga asks the Goddesses of Destiny. “What of his fate? And what is your advice, oh, wise ones?”  
As always, their answer is short and to the point, yet leaves room to a whole range of interpretation: “Balder cannot be alive in Asgard as long as Loki is.”  
Loki. Frigga gasps aloud. Desperation clutches her heart on the journey home. That night, Frigga does something she never tried before: in her dreams, she looks for _all_ possible futures.  
All the ones in which Balder is alive. She sees that whenever Balder is alive Loki is not, just as the witches said. Then she searches for all the futures in which Loki is alive. Balder is in none of them.  
So it was true: the salvation of one of her children means the death of another.  
She thinks of Odin, how he would rage if he knew and how his thoughts could so easily turn to dark paths. She keeps telling herself that no matter those initial thoughts about political gain, in the year past Odin has come to see Loki as his own as much as Frigga herself did. But she knows her husband, knows that him knowing would be too much of a risk, a risk she is not willing to take. Suddenly, she's glad she didn't confide with him.  
  
There are no other possibilities, no other solution.  
A few days after her journey, Frigga gives birth to a healthy son. In secret.  
With tears in her eyes, Frigga removes her mother's ring from her finger and brings it to her lips. A kiss, to imbue it with her magic, so that her son will have a way to know the truth if need be, if Loki…  
Then she kisses her son one last time, saying goodbye. After today, she won't be able to see him again. Not for a long time. Perhaps never again.  
She then creates an illusion around herself so that to everyone the Queen will appear to be still pregnant. Until a few days later word spreads in Asgard: the King and Queen's third son is stillborn.

Time passes. Odin and Frigga see Loki grow. He grows bitter and resentful. Envious. Monstrous.  
_Balder cannot be alive in Asgard as long as Loki is_. Frigga can see it quite clearly now, even while wide awake: Odin coming to realize that the true meaning of the prophecy could indeed be that Loki would have grown up to kill his own brother.  
“A murderer,” Odin says. “You want me to call son the one who killed his own father Laufey. You want me to show mercy when no mercy can be shown.”  
“I want you to spare his life,” replies Frigga. “For you may call him Loki Laufeyson now but I still remember sharing my magic with him and holding him in my arms as a child and I still love him as a son.” _Even if I am the only one. Even if this would mean that my other child, who I have not seen in years and so long to hold in my arms again, can never make his return._  
Loki's life is spared, to spend the rest of his life in a cell.  
  
  
  
Loki is in the throne room, wearing Odin's face, holding a ring in his palm. Mother's magic radiating from it, like a whiff of her perfume, sweet and fresh. Loki raises his eyes. Tall, blue eyes, dirty blond hair. A warrior’s body underneath the tarnished, well-used armor. Yes, you cannot miss the resemblance.  
He schools his voice and expression into a display of shock, which honestly doesn't take much effort.  
“My son.” he says and rises for an embrace.  
  
Another prince, another heir. Raised away from Asgard because of some kind of prophecy, unaware of his royal lineage until a few days ago.  
“I escorted prince Balder to Vanaheim myself when he was still a newborn,” Heimdall says.  
_And, of course, you never breathed a word of it to anyone, you haughty bastard_ , Loki thinks.  
Damn the old man and his intrigues. Loki just managed to send Thor toddling back to his Midgardians mortals, only to find another pretender to the throne underfoot.  
“In the event of Loki's death,” continues Heimdall “where his adoptive parents unable to, I was ordered to bring prince Balder back to Asgard.”  
Loki's death? _Where you afraid I might kill him, Father?_ Loki suppressed a smile. _You know what? I just might._  
  
Except, Balder does not want the throne. “I was raised to be a warrior, my King. I'm no prince.” And Loki knows he is speaking the truth because no one lies to the master of lies.  
Behind his respectful words, Balder has no great interest in another father either. His adoptive father was a good man, apparently.  
Loki tells himself it's all for the good since he has no interest in playing the doting father himself.  
But it enrages him.  
Balder has all that Loki wanted and longed for and he doesn't care for it.  
  
Except, he keeps asking about Frigga.  
“My adoptive mother... she died when I was very young. I never knew her.”  
He finds himself looking forwards to walking through Frigga's gardens with Balder, telling him tales of Frigga's wisdom, her grace, her magic. Balder drinking it all in like it's fresh water and he a thirsty man.  
_Then, am I not your mother?_ Frigga's voice whispers in Loki's head.  
Balder asking him about magic, asking Loki if he would teach him magic. Without any judgment or shame.  
Sparks and shadow tricks, nothing complicated yet, but Balder is suitably awed and impressed by Loki's magical displays and lessons. And, as much as it irks Loki to admit it, the man shows some potential. There's a glimmer of light in him that is all Frigga's.  
Balder never calls Odin “father”. Another thing they have in common.  
  
Loki is... mystified by Balder. Fuck, like Balder would hesitate to shove his sword through Loki's chest if he'd show him his real face. Loki forces his expression into a smile. Just for this, for making him feel like this, the man deserves to die.  
Balder is a warrior, so Loki finds him a place with his guard. One day, he arranges for a misstep during training, the sword of Balder's opponent hitting its target a bit too high. Only to see the sword simply bounce back, leaving Balder unarmed. Just for a moment, Loki can smell again Mother's sweet perfume. A spell, very old and very powerful, protecting Balder.  
_Worried about his safety, were you, Mother?_  
It just adds more fun to the challenge, Loki decides.  
The following night, Loki is waiting outside Balder's chambers, thinking of cursing him with a dark spell and, invulnerability or not, be done with him. Perhaps poisoning his dinner, it would be more subtle.  
Then he thinks of Frigga, placing a protective spell on Balder, with infinite care and attention. _You never did such a thing for me_ some part of Loki snarls bitterly, but the thought stills his hand.  
  
Once again, Balder is in the yard, training with Sif this time. Their spears meet with a clang and Loki can see they're easily matched.  
Just a less dumb version of Thor, Loki thinks. Who doesn't talk much.  
He looks older too, despite being a year younger than Loki himself. Did he lead a harsher life?  
Loki should hate him.  
Just then, the warriors stop for water. Balder turns toward the palace window and smiles at him. A genuine smile, not arrogant or mocking. Loki knows the difference. Before he can consciously decide to, Loki smiles back.  
  
  
  
Balder finds himself leading a life he never expected to. Suddenly he is a prince. And heir to the throne of Asgard, now that prince Thor renounced to his role.  
His father was a farmer, he is not made for ruling. He is a warrior, he has no head for politics.  
Balder knows that King Odin is an honorable man and a good king. Despite his grief for the loss of his wife, he welcomed him warmly into his life.  
But Balder is no prince and he even told the King as much. Truly, he would be more than content to live his life serving a worthy king. He dreamed of it in the past often enough.  
And, for now, amazingly, that's what he does. The King made him part of his guard, so that Balder could watch over his life. The King talked of making him a Commander too, with time, but for now he is just a common guard, with common duties. It suits him quite fine.  
It's not the life he imagined for himself. He had not dared to.  
  
Balder is patrolling the lowest past of the castle. Supposedly he should be searching for hidden treats, mostly he's making sure the new repairs are structurally sound as they should be.  
After the devastation brought on by the Dark Elves, King Odin has swiftly led the reconstruction process and by now Asgard is back to its former glory. Or so Balder has been told. Not long ago, the hallway he is walking through was nothing but rubble, that he knows.  
  
He catches something in the air. Stops. A smell, a… sensation. The peculiar feeling of your skin prickling. Just like King Odin's lessons. _Magic_.  
What is it doing here?  
He follows the trail, through dark tunnels and hidden passage, until he finds a wall that isn't really there. _Shadows and light tricks_. He crosses the not-door and behind it he finds... King Odin, lying on a bed of furs, his eyes closed. All around him, a veil of tiny golden sparks. _Odinsleep_.  
Balder shouts the alarm and runs back through his steps until he is back to the throne room and, sure enough, there is Odin All-Father, sitting on his golden throne.  
He takes a step forward, fury and confusion deepening his voice to a slow drawl: “Who are you.”  
His hands hang loosely at his side, ready for action.  
  
King Odin jerks upright. The sound of heavy footsteps echoes though the hall. Then it wanes. Guards, running toward the lower levels.  
The King sighs and closes his eyes. Then a shimmer, like water rippling, and a dark-haired young man is standing where the King was. “I am Loki,” the not-King says.  
Balder's eyes widen, he knows that name. “What. Did you do. To the King.”  
“Nothing.”  
“You are Loki the Lie-Smith.”  
“You've heard of me!” A smirk.  
“I heard that you were dead. And a traitor,” Balder says carefully, waiting for something, a trick, an attack.  
“As you can see, I am not dead.” Slowly, deliberately, he climbs down the steps to the throne.  
Balder's hand finds his sword's hilt.  
“Was I not a good King?” the man asks. “Did I not rebuilt Asgard to his former glory? Do the Aesir not prosper under my rule?”  
Balder eyes him wearily. “You mean to say that King that I knew… has been you all along.”  
The man-Loki, his name is Loki, looks him in the eyes, showing an almost vulnerable expression. “Yes.”  
“And it was you... who taught me magic.”  
“Pfff,” he snorts. “Just shadows and light tricks, you are still far from being a-”  
The man's words are drown out by the sound of harried voices, more footsteps. A tall, blonde man barges into the hall, a winged helm on his head.  
This must be prince Thor, the detached part of his minds thinks. He has time to notice the men at his heels, the Warrior Three, all fifty with grime and grass stains, like they were interrupted while rolling in the mud.  
“Loki!” the blond man booms. “Tell me what did you do to Father or you'll pay with your head.”  
Balder can feel the situation sweeping swiftly out of his control.  
“Wait,” he says.  
  
  
  
“Tell me!” Thor's voice booms again, his hand already swinging his hammer. Loki is just standing there, a bored expression on his face. Fandral and Volstagg grab their weapons and so does Hogun, who still has his bow and arrows with him from the hunt. Each arrow made of a different wood, making an arrow faster, more accurate or harder to shatter. Like most things, archery is imbued with its own kind of magic.  
Hogun looks at Loki and selects a mistletoe arrow: a poisonous plant for a poisonous snake.  
In front of him the argument rages on, but Loki and Thor have not come to fight one another yet, prince Balder seemingly running interference and putting his built between them, hands outstretched as if to calm a startled horse.  
Hogun notches the arrow, draws the bowstring.  
“He was already asleep!” Loki shouts “What _I_ did was taking back what _is_ mine and putting the kingdom to rights. What _you_ did was leave and wash your hands of it so don't-”  
_There_. A gap between the bodies. He lets the arrow loose.  
It flies straight and true. Silent. Thor and Loki, still shrieking accusations at each other, do not notice. But Balder does. In a moment, Hogun sees him jerk in front of Loki, just as the arrow plants itself deep into his chest.  
A pause. Balder collapses to the ground.  
  
  
  
He is hit. Someone catches him before he can hit the floor. He tries to turn his head. The King-Loki, he is staring at him in shocked silence, prince Thor besides him with his mouth open.  
He hears a gurgling sound.  
He watches his King and thinks of him telling about Queen Frigga's favorite spot in the gardens. Trying to teach him her shielding spell. Did he do it on purpose, he wonders. Did he want me to find out? He tries to speak. He can't get the words out.  
He hears that gurgling sound again and with a shock realizes that it's him. He watches Loki's green eyes fill with tears.  
  
  
  
Thor watches the brother he came to Asgard to greet die in Loki's arms.  
Loki is arrested. Thor is King.  
“Father is still into Odinsleep. What did you do? Did you do something to him? Answer me!” Thor asks Loki again. In his cell, Loki doesn't move, doesn't say a word. He has been like this since Balder's death. Unresponsive, unseeing.  
  
  
  
Loki doesn't speak. But he listens, can't help to. Funny that after all this Odin is still asleep. Uncaring.  
Loki doesn't care about anything either. He doesn't care any more.  
He is in a cell in the dungeons, again. The dungeons that he helped rebuilt. Balder's blood is still sticking under his fingernails. Did Balder think the arrow was going to bounce off him harmlessly, like most things did?  
Loki cannot go to Balder's funeral, just like he could not be present to Mother's. He thinks like he could care about this, should care about this, if he could only find the presence of mind to focus on the matter long enough.  
  
  
  
Above ground, all of Asgard is gathered to say goodbye to one of its favorite son, so briefly known, yet so well loved. His blonde hair swings in the hair as the funeral barge sails the river. Goodbye Balder the Good, Balder the Brave.  
Of all things in Asgard, mistletoe he was vulnerable to.   
  
As foretold, Ragnarök comes. In the form of Thanos the Mad Titan, lover of Death.  
With Frigga dead, Odin asleep and Loki in prison, no one in Asgard stands a chance against Thanos' power.  
  
This is story of how the gods die.


	2. Cover art & picspam

  
Alexander Skarsgård is my head-canon for Balder. Because come on if he doesn't look like he could be Chris Hemsworth's brother. For a while he was even on the short-list of actors who where considered by Marvel Studios for the part. And because I'm terribly obsessed of course. *blushes*  
And, yes, comics!Balder has dark hair. I don't care... :D

[Resources](http://endeni.dreamwidth.org/20058.html)


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